


Call Me Sherlock

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Over the Rainbow [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Snark, Sorting Ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They gave me a brain, allowed me to think for myself but they didn’t bother to give me a name. People name EVERYTHING. Cats, dogs, frogs, snakes, other people…yet, me? I don’t get a name. I think on a higher level than any animal and most people I come in contact with for that fact, yet I have no name. </p><p>I should name myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Sherlock

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. I do own a lot of nail polish. Even in Slytherin green.**

* * *

Being a Hat is boring. Hell, being a Hat without a name is horrible. Why won’t anyone give me a damn name? 

Hat.

Sorting Hat.

THE Sorting Hat.

THE HAT.

That is what they call me. Honestly. Couldn’t the Founders who made me have given me a name? Like, oh, I don’t know…Charlie? John. Fitzsimmions. Janus. 

SOMETHING.

They gave me a brain, allowed me to think for myself but they didn’t bother to give me a name. People name EVERYTHING. Cats, dogs, frogs, snakes, other people…yet, me? I don’t get a name. I think on a higher level than any animal and most people I come in contact with for that fact, yet I have no name. 

I should name myself. 

Oh, blast. I was supposed to make up a stupid song. I think I’ll recycle a song. I know I’m supposed to spend ALL YEAR making up a new song, but do you honestly think I sit around in the Headmaster’s office thinking of various ways to say the same blasted thing each year?

No.

I do other things. 

Like plot how to get arms. Or legs. I occasionally plot world domination. I can totally see this, too. Me, a beat up hat without a name, taking over the world through simple logic! 

Okay, I can’t see it. I’d need arms, legs and a body to take over the world. No one listens to me. I’m a freaking hat.

Without a name. 

I will name myself. 

I’d like to be called Sherlock. Dumbledore used to read out loud about some guy named Sherlock Holmes. Those were better than those other books he read. Some of the books that man likes are…strange. 

But, like Sherlock, I make deductions. It is what I do each year to all those ickle first years. I deduce them into separate houses. 

I’m on the move right now, meaning it’s the start of term. I only get to travel once a year and it’s to the same damn place: the Great Hall. I get to sit on a stool and sing a song. Whoo. Hoo. 

Oh. Song.

Blast. I forgot to make one up. 

Well, here goes. The one time I speak out loud to the whole school and I have to sing a stupid song I doubt any of the students actually listen to. 

“I’m ugly, but looks are not everything. I plan to eat myself if you find a smarter hat than me. I am the cleverest object on Earth and one day I will take it by storm. While I wish I had a name, the four founders, as smart as they were, failed to give me a name, just a purpose. So put me on and I’ll deduce you into a House. Be it Gryffindor, where you can be bold and brash, or Slytherin, where you must be cunning and shrewd. If you have a sharp mind and wit, be ready to wear blue and cheer for Ravenclaw. If you are loyal and super cute, Hufflepuff you’ll be. Now, put me on your head and let me see inside so I can tell you where to go.”

Not my best work. I made that up on the fly, so sue me. 

Seriously. Sue me. I dare you. 

If I had hands I’d be rubbing them together. I’ve got my first victim! 

“Ah, first vict— student. Wait a second. You’re old!”

_Yeah, I kind of noticed that Hat._

“Call me Sherlock.”

_Okay. Sherlock. I know I’m old. This is my seventh year. Or eighth. If you want to be picky._

“I will be picky. Now, let’s see. Besides being OLD, Atlanta Black, you have already been sorted. I think.”

I poke around in this girl’s head. Her mind is OLDER than I’ve seen in years, but she’s a time traveler. Man, I love time travelers. They are so much fun to poke around with. But this one, man, she’s different. For one, she’d not FROM Hogwarts. She’s American. Part werewolf. And she’s already been at Hogwarts for a year, simply refused to be sorted. 

Ah, her reasons make sense. 

Why do I know the name Atlanta Black? Why do I have this uncanny sense of déjà vu? I know I haven’t poked around here before. I leave traces. 

“Are you sure haven’t sorted you before? I know your name, but I don’t recognize anything in your head.”

_Well, someone might have shared my name, did you think of that?_

“How many Atlanta Blacks are there who are part werewolf?”

_Oh. Good point. Not many._

“You know. The girl I sorted before I hadn’t realized she was a werewolf mix, so I didn’t tell her. But you were told by…Sirius Black? How the hell— Remus Lupin’s your father? Interesting. Gryffindor. Very brave man.”

_I know._

“He’s dead in your future. Well, you’ll be happy to know that future has been erased! Whoever threw you back in time messed everything up all the way back to 1943!”

I’m sure this is the same girl who went by Calliope Riddle. Or related to her in some sense, but I’m not going to tell her this. It’ll just confuse her. It confuses me, and I’m a genius. 

I’d sorted Calliope Riddle already as Atlanta Black and put her in Gryffindor according to her head. Calliope didn’t believe me, as someone had messed with her mind. Calliope Riddle didn’t think she was a time traveller either. It was almost painful to poke around in her head, so I sent her on her merry way to where she wanted to go. 

_Draco went to 1943?_

“I don’t know where Draco went. I’ve never met a Draco. Okay, I need to sort you, Miss Black.”

_Well, get to it, Sherlock. You’ve got a whole mess of first years to get to after me. I got to go first. Because I’m old._

“Well, aren’t you special.”

 _No. Not really_.

“Let’s see. You’re rather smart. Clever even. Though, you’re not driven by obtaining more knowledge….you’d make a terrible Slytherin even if you’re in love with one.”

She has very little self-preservation and would rather eat a slug than lead someone anywhere. And she’s almost anti-tradition even though she was raised in a traditional pureblood enviroment. 

Wait a second…

“Wait, who else is here in your head?”

Someone that is not this girl got really pissed off at me when I said she’s make a terrible Slytherin. I move through the layers and would drop my jaw if I had one. 

“Is that…no, how did you get Tom Riddle in your head?”

_Er…Well, you see…_

And I do see it. A potion accident, magic mixing and suddenly there is a fuzzy, almost solid image of Tom Riddle. And he lives in her arm and hangs out in her head. 

Creepy. Tom Riddle, the guy who I’m pretty sure messed up Calliope Riddle, who forgot she was Atlanta Black. 

This is strange and creepy.

And so COOL!

I think I got it. Eleven-year-old Atlanta Black is the future version of this one I’m currently trying to sort! Draco sent this version back to this time period on accident. I see this in her mind, walking into a corridor and Draco vanishing and her appearing upstairs in 1976. This is the FIRST time I’m REALLY sorting Atlanta Black. The eleven-year-old one I’ll sort in the future will be born in a few years from now and somehow attend Hogwarts instead of…that American school this girl attended for six years. And the Atlanta Black I sorted in 1943 (the actual first time I sorted an Atlanta Black) was the one I had already sorted in the future. So, she travels back in time from the future! 

This is so cool! I love time travel. It’s so confusing it’s brilliant. 

And the Tom Riddle in her head is…odd. He’s…quite different from the one Calliope Riddle knew in her own head. Odd. 

But so cool!

_He says that I would make a good Slytherin and he is insulted you don’t think I would. I’m resourceful and determined when I want to be._

“Ah, well, I’m not too concerned what Tom Riddle thinks. Now, where to sort you. Brave…yes. Plenty of bravery. But, you are not reckless or daring enough for Godric. You tend to think more before you act than he likes.”

 _You’re saying Remus is reckless_?

“In a sense, he is. You exist.”

_Point._

“And you are here, so I guess your Draco is reckless as well.”

_Add mental snort here, Sherlock. Draco isn’t reckless in the least. He’s a true Slytherin._

“I’ll be the judge of that when I meet the kid. Now, back to you. You are loyal, but you’re not that hard working. You tend to give up when your determination gives out. You are rather just, though. Standing up to bullies, keeping your Regulus safe.”

If I had eyes, I’m sure I’d be watching the girl blush. She is totally infatuated with Regulus Black. Too bad it’ll never work for them. I know those Blacks. Slytherins to the core, except one. Eh, maybe two. Or three. But, Regulus will toe that family line no matter how miserable it makes him. He has a ridiculous sense of duty. 

“But, you’re not too tolerant. Tragic. And you will play dirty when you need to and you’re not really dedicated to much of anything. You get distracted rather easily don’t you?”

_Hey, look, a butterfly!_

“Exactly.”

_Oh! Shiny!_

“Witty. You are witty.”

_Oh, I feel witty, and pretty and giddy and light! Oops, I floated off. Cookies! Tom told me the Dark Side has cookies. I like cookies._

“And creative. How many people would have thought to stick Tom Riddle into their arm? That is rather original. And you do march to your own drum…”

 _Tom says put me in Ravenclaw. It’s the only House that gets along with both Gryffindor and Slytherin_.

“I don’t care what Tom has to say.”

I need to put her somewhere, though. She’s got a lot of the traits for Ravenclaw. I doubt Rowena would take the girl, but I keep putting Lovegoods in that house and they’re batty. And I think she’ll get along with that Moffat kid. He was weird too. 

BAH! NO! I can’t agree with Tom!

But, Tom does have a point. If she wants to keep it up with Regulus, she’ll have to remain neutral. That kid isn’t brave enough to be seen with a Gryffindor. Or a Hufflepuff. 

Bah! When did sorting become hard? 

_You’re doing a lot of mental ranting. Ranting is fun, though, so go ahead and do it. I’ve got all the time in the world. Heh, get it. Time? I’m a time traveler!_

I can feel Tom’s amusement even if I can’t see or “read” it in her mind. I can only “feel” Tom. It’s highly annoying. I want to know what Tom is thinking. 

Bah. I know what Tom is thinking. 

“You might be right. All right. Fine. Tom wins. I win and you win by going to RAVENCLAW!”

_Nice chatting, Sherlock._

And she’s gone.

On to the next!

Oh, bother. This one is boring. I don’t even have to look. I hate those ones. 


End file.
